The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-06-25
Written for The Arkansaw Trareler.
 Littlc DiSc[.
CHAPTER I.


 Any one at all acquainted with Nose Spencer would have known, by merely glancing at him, as he walked along the road one morning, that he was exceedingly angry; and, one who brides himself upon being shrewd pryer into an individ- uaPs mind, taking up each threat of motive and tracing it to the end, would have declared that Nose was beset by that consuming and hopeless anger which finds no relief ill pros pective revenge. am not inclined to think that Nose was directly de- scended from that Spencer whose May Queen" Hume declares is never read except by people who look upon such performance as a duty, for there was not about Nose even the most remote suggestion of that refine ment which comtemplates poetry. In appearance he was n typical back woodsman, but his extreme harshness of face could not rest upon this fact for it's origin, for many of the mildest countenances and faces of gentlest eX- pression are found i'll places where the pedagogue has made but few tracks. Nobody liked Nose. He took such delight in cruelty that he would climb fence and go through patch of briars to throw stone at harmless dog.
 AS Nose neared blacksmith's shop, where several men were lounging,. he hesitated upon beholding certain "dev- ilish fellows" as if he dreaded some- thing, but when one of them yelled at him, he shrugged his shoulders and approached them.
 "We've hearn all about it," said Sam Stoveall. "Hearn it this mornin'"
 "Yes," Andrew Horn joined in, "an' we're all mighty sorry fur you"
 "I want you fellers to shct up," Nose replied lifting up the tail of his long jeans coat and seating himself on stump. ''The internal luck is enough without sich talk"
 "W'y, what's the matter, Mose?" the blacksmith asked. "I ain't heard nothin'?"
 "Gal borned at my house last night" :" Nose answered.
 "Wall, now, that ain't nothin' to cripple man, is it? Thar's been a gal borned at my house ever year from about as fur back as I ken recol- leck, it peers to me, an l ain't seed nobody limpin' round on that ac- count. Wy, confound yore 'onery picture, man, you oughter be glad that it is gal. Boys don't do nothin' but cause trouble, no how"
 "That's all right" Nose rejoined, "but wanted boy, an this gal bus ness makes me as mad as a hornet. I had jest sot my heart on boy-had prayed fur one, an dreamed that it would be a boy, an now, confound it, miserable little ole gala common ever day gal comes to take his place Fellers, it makes me mad, thar ain't no gettin' round that fack. It makes me so mad that I have dun tuck a oath that Pll never have nothin' to dc with the young one. wouldn't kere eff she'd die befo' git home"
 "Mose, fur the Lawd's sake, don't talk thater way" said the blacksmith "It's sin an shame fur man tc 'spress hisse'f thater way agin his owI flesh an blood"
 "Tve dun said it am Pll stick to it. Nose replied. "Ib'feve that the Lawd sent that gal jest because He's got q spite agin' me-"
 "Pve got little gal at my house an I wouldn't take heap O no mans money fur her," Sam Stoveall re. marked. "She's jest nachully tht puttiest thing ever seed, am I'll bt dinged if I'd give her for ever boy o1 the place."
 "You fellcrs might talk thiser way till-till whut's his name blows hi trumpet, an it wouldn't change my mind none," Nose replied. "An' e she lives Pm goin' to show her tha she found her way inter the wrong house."
 "A man that'll talk thater way is blamed foolv exclaimed Andrew Horn. z
 "Be kinder keerful, Andy" Mos, replied. "Ricolleck that I ain't tool no oath to put up with everything tha teller is mind to say to me-"
 sI don't kere whut you've done nol whut you hain't dope, Nose Spencer but I'll jest rarn yOS you kain't tall thater way whar I am without findin out whut I think of you."
 ssIt ain't none Q yore bus'ness whu say about my own affairs"
 aIt mout not be in the sight o' th, law" Horn rejoined, ssbut it is in tn, sight O the Lawd, an as I rid Q cir